None of them would ever forget the outcome of this unusual
man's Christmas Eve visit.

"All set, Mr. Harris," said the garage attendant,
closing the door of the car. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, George," said Mike Harris,
and handed him a generous tip for the occasion.

Then he set out for his home on Long Island. He felt pretty good.
The office party hadn't been too boring and now there was nothing
to worry about but the possibility that he might have forgotten one or
two presents for his family. On the back seat was a heap of packages.
Now let me see, he thought, the coat for Mildred was to have been
delivered. One--two--yup, I think I got everything. And for the children
Well, he knew he had bought more than he had intended to buy. But then,
Christmas wouldn't be Christmas if one bought only the things that
one set out to buy.

Mike Harris drove along the East Side Franklin Roosevelt Drive
toward the Triborough Bridge. Lucky, he thought, just beat the traffic
by half an hour. On the bridge, he stayed in the right lane. It was not
only the least used but led to his exit on Long Island. He paid his
toll, turned on the radio and listened to the news. The commentator
warned repeatedly about speeding on the highways, recalled the enormous
casualties of previous years, pleaded with drivers to slow their pace.

I certainly will, thought Mike. I'm in no hurry. Amused, he
watched other drivers cutting in and out. Silly, he thought. How much
time can they save? If they're racing to the airport they should
have left earlier to make a plane. There was no one in front of him, the
right lane being almost devoid of traffic.

Suddenly Mike stared at the road ahead, startled. There were no
cars before him for a couple of hundred yards, but a man loomed up in
his view, walking along the road as though he were taking a stroll in a
quiet country lane. Mike sounded his horn frantically, but the man was
either drunk or deaf, because he did not react. He continued his
leisurely pace.

Mike slammed on his brakes, but could not prevent his left fender
from striking the man slightly. The shove caused him to stumble, but he
did not fall. Traffic began to pile up behind and horns blared.

Mike got out of his car.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" he
demanded. "Do you want to get run over? If you have to get
plastered, why don't you pick a quiet street, like Eighth
Avenue?"

The man looked almost indignant. "I am not drunk, sir,"
he said quietly, as though nothing had happened. "I am sober."

Mike felt like calling down all the imprecations listed in the
Unabridged. Grab hold of yourself he thought. Don't forget the
Christmas spirit.

"Look, my good man," he managed to say, "don't
you know it's suicide to walk along a bridge like this? Aside from
the fact that it's against the law. The first cop driving by would
arrest you."

"That would be quite all right, sir," said the man.

The cars stacked up behind them were blowing their horns
frantically.

"Never mind," Mike said; "just get in the car.
We'll have that out later. But it's a hell of a way to hitch a
ride."

The man got in, an almost-satisfied smile on his face.

Mike grew a bit suspicious. "What was your purpose in doing
that?" he asked. "Are you trying to stage a holdup? I
don't have much money on me, you know. Besides, you shouldn't
do that on Christmas; it's against all ethics."

"I'm not attempting a holdup, sir," said the man.

"Well, what's the idea of walking along a busy
highway?"

"I want to get some attention,'' said the man.
"Are you very angry at me, sir?"

Mike had enough. He was looking for the first exit. "I'd
better get you to the nearest hospital," he said. "You might
be hurt, after all. Perhaps it would be best if you had a checkup."

"Oh, no;" said the man. "I am quite all right, I
assure you. You did not strike me very hard, and it certainly was worth
it."

"Worth it!" ejaculated Mike. "What's wrong with
you? I have a lot of patience because it's Christmas, but this
sounds crazy. Are you crazy?" he asked. "Escape from Bellevue,
perhaps? Do you have amnesia? Or do you know who you are?"

The man smiled. "I know who I am, sir. Oh, I have not
introduced myself. My name is Higgins--A. H. Higgins."

"Glad to meet you," said Mike dryly. "My name is
Michael Harris. On second thought, I'm not so sure I'm glad to
meet you. The setting is rather unusual. Tell me, how did you get there,
anyway?"

"I took a cab," said the man, "from the other side
of the bridge. I asked the driver to let me out in the middle. He
thought it was a bit odd, but I told him that I was waiting for a friend
to pick me up in his car. So he let me out and I started to walk."

"But why?" asked Michael. "Did you want to commit
suicide?" "Oh, no, sir," said A.H. Higgins. "I told
you, I just wanted to get some attention."

"You could have easily got more than you bargained for,"
said Mike. "I happen to be a careful driver; I was only doing about
25 or 30. If somebody came flying along at 60 you would have been a
goner. Do you realize that?"

"Even that would have paid, sir, as long as I felt it. I mean,
just so I would have remained alive long enough to realize that people
were standing around and showing me some attention."

"That's a rotten way to die. In order to get
attention!" said Mike. "Why are you so set on getting
attention?" "I never have it," he said simply.

"What do you mean?" asked Michael.

"I never gave it any thought until my doctor mentioned
it." "Your doctor? Then you are ill!" "No, not
exactly. Oh, I had sometimes felt tired and listless. Everyone feels
that way now and then. Well, the doctor told me my heart was kind of
weak."

"Too much work and too little relaxation, I suppose?"

"Almost exactly his words. Only he said 'too little
diversion.' I should take some vitamin pills and get a little
attention ."

"Did it help?"

"Well, my heart doesn't bother me. I take the vitamin
pills, but nobody's shown me any attention. So I thought this
Christmas I'd give myself the present of making someone really mad
at me."

"Make someone mad at you? Why?"

"Because if someone is mad at you, he's bound to give you
some attention," said Mr. Higgins. "Of course, it didn't
quite work out," he added a bit sadly, "because you
aren't really mad at me, are you, sir?"

"No, I'm not. But that hasn't anything to do with
you. I'm just content with the work I've done and the fact
that I'm going home."

"That's one of the points I was making," said Mr.
Higgins. "When you get home you'll receive a lot of attention,
won't you?"

Mike laughed. "Yes. Mostly because of the packages behind me
in the Car."

"It's worth it," said Mr. Higgins. "I wish I
had some packages to pack."

"Don't you have any money to buy some?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Higgins. "I have enough
money--I've a good bank account. I just don't have anyone for
whom I could buy presents. And since no one has any particular reason
for liking me, I thought I might at least get some attention by
having someone mad at me."

They were by now well on their way out on Long Island.

"Look," said Mike, "I'm probably taking you out
of your way. Where do you live?"

"I live in New York; in Manhattan, sir. But it does not
matter. I can always take a train back."

"Why?" asked Mike. "Is it worth the ride you're
taking with me?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Higgins. "Not just the ride, but
I can't remember when anyone spoke so many words to me in such a
short time. I mean, gave me so much attention. You have asked at least
six questions which showed your interest in me. No one else has ever
shown sufficient interest in me to ask six questions."

"That's ridiculous," said Mike. "It's
beyond me."

"I can understand that," nodded Mr. Higgins.
"Nevertheless, it is the truth."

"You have a fixed idea there," said Mike.
"Let's analyze this question. You say nobody gives you any
attention. Aren't you married?" "No," said Mr.
Higgins.

Mike glanced at him. A.H. Higgins was a rather good-looking man,
about 50 years old, hair beginning to turn gray at the temples. He was
dressed in good taste, businesslike, and immaculately clean.

"Why aren't you married?" asked Mike. "I
realize, of course, that it's none of my concern, but since you
like attention, I thought I might as well ask. I can't say that you
haven't made me curious."

"Your curiosity makes me very happy," said Mr. Higgins
gratefully. "It is difficult to explain why I did not marry. I have
thought about if often. When I was young, I was too busy. I come from a
small family. I studied; worked in the evening in order to be able to go
on studying. I never knew my father; he died when I was very young and I
helped my mother along. Then I got a good job and felt it was the wrong
time to get married; I had to concentrate on getting ahead."

"What do you do?" asked Mike.

"I am a bank manager," said Mr. Higgins modestly.

"A bank manager?" Mike was stunned. "And you
don't get any attention?''

"No. I give attention, but I never receive it. People are only
interested in a bank manager when they want a check cashed or something
like that."

"Why don't you go out sometimes? Have a good time? You
make good money, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I have a very good income. But I've never
known how to spend it."

"Well, there are ways, you know," said Michael, laughing.

"Oh, yes, I know. But you see, I am shy. It was difficult for
me to get acquainted with women. I did not know anybody."

"But your business associates?"

"Well," said Mr. Higgins thoughtfully. "I guess I am
not a very gregarious or entertaining fellow. People like to invite
bachelors when they can make themselves useful at parties; when they can
tell funny stories, or entertain the ladies, or mix good drinks. I was
never very good at either category. I was invited to parties once or
twice, but I sat around in a corner feeling awkward, knowing I was
boring company. Why would people invite a man who bores their
guests?"

Mike shook his head. This was a completely new world to him. He had
never been alone. One of six children, he was accustomed to company,
parties, had flirted with his sisters' friends, competed with his
brothers once or twice for the favors of their girl friends and had
always busied himself in his parents' home giving and receiving joy
and--as Mr. Higgins called it--attention. He often felt he was receiving
too much of it; had too little privacy, too little quiet, too little
relaxation. But he was too intelligent to complain about love. It was
incomprehensible to him that a human being could exist who was so
lonesome, so completely isolated that he had to walk along a busy
highway in order to gain some attention.

"You see, sir, I am boring you," said Higgins.

"No," Michael said, "you're not boring me;
I was just thinking. By the way, what does the A.H. stand for?"
"I'd rather not say, sir."

"Why not?"

"It sounds--silly."

"You can't help the name your mother gave you."

"Well, you have been very kind to me," said Mr. Higgins,
"so I guess you won't laugh. The A stands for Adelbert; the H
for Hugo. Tell me, how can a man receive love or attention with a name
like Adelbert Hugo Higgins?

Mike tried for a moment to put himself in Adelbert Hugo
Higgins' position; he shuddered. "Tell you what," he said
finally; "we're almost home. Do you have any plans for
tonight?"

"No, sir," said Adelbert Hugo.

"Would you like to spend Christmas Eve with us?"

"Oh, I would like it very much, but I couldn't
possibly."

"Why not?"

"I cannot disturb your family gathering." "There is
no family gathering tonight. It's Christmas Eve and I expect to
be very busy trimming the tree. You had any practice trimming
trees?"

"No. I often look at them when I eat alone in restaurants and
I think it must be a lot of fun. There is one little place where I
frequently eat and it has occurred to me to ask the owner if he would
allow me to help trim the tree. But I did not think it quite
proper."

"No," said Michael, "and there's no fun
trimming a restaurant tree. A family tree is much nicer."

"I should say so," said Adelbert Hugo.

"Well, then," said Mike, "that's settled."

"But what will Mrs. Harris say?" asked Mr. Higgins.

"Leave that to me," said Mike. "It will be all
right."

In the meantime, they had reached the house. Flax, the German
shepherd, came dashing over, barking. joyfully. The children ran toward
the car, but stopped short upon seeing the stranger.

"Come on in," said Mike. "It's cold out
here."

They all went in. Flax looked a bit mistrustful, but, as the
stranger had entered with his master, he was too well-mannered to raise
his voice to him.

"This is Ad Higgins," Mike introduced, "a friend of
mine. I think he'll be one of yours too. He's going to spend
Christmas Eve with us and help trim the tree. That is, after you rascals
are in bed, of course .... Mildred, do you think you can manage an
extra plate for dinner?"

"We can always manage another plate for dinner," said
Mildred. "Welcome, Mr. Higgins."

"Thank you, madame," said Adelbert Hugo. "It is a
great honor for me to share this evening with your family." Flax
must have been the first to reize that Mr. Higgins needed attention. As
soon as he had settled back in one of the easy chairs in the living
room, Flax came over, sat beside him, wagged his tail and then rested
his long muzzle on Mr. Higgins' knee. Rather startled, Mr. Higgins
patted the dog's head. "He's a beautiful animal," he
said. "I love dogs."

"Do you have dogs in your house?" asked little Evelyn.

"No," said Mr. Higgins regretfully, "I never could
manage it. I don't have a house."

"Where do you live?"

Mr. Higgins mentioned an East Side residence hotel.

"Oh," said Evelyn pityingly, "you have to live in a
hotel? That's tough."

"Not so tough when you live alone," said Mr. Higgins.

"Alone?" asked Jack, who was nine. "You mean you
have no children?"

"No," said Mr. Higgins with a sort of sad smile, "I
have no children."

"Don't you like children?" asked Lily, the oldest,
with all the dignity of her thirteen years.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Higgins hastened to reply, "I adore children. I just never had any because I'm not married."

Now it was Mildred who looked rather stunned. "You are a
bachelor, Mr. Higgins?"

"Yes, madame."

"But you don't look like one," she said smilingly.

"How does a bachelor look, madame?"

"We-e-ell," Mildred said, and stopped for a moment.
"Kind of hard," she continued. "You know, bitter-lonely.
You don't look hitter and lonely at all."

"I am glad," said Mr. Higgins. "I should not enjoy
looking hitter or lonely. How could I, when I'm given so much
attention?"

After dinner the children went upstairs and Mildred to the kitchen
to help Mary with the dishes. The two men began to trim the Christmas
tree. Mike brought out all the packages and started to unpack them. To
his astonishment, Adelbert Hugo Higgins proved very adept at setting up
toys for the children. In no time at all, he had assembled the entire
miniature house for Evelyn and dressed the dolls.

"For a man who has never done this and hasn't any
children, you show a lot of experience," said Mike, smiling.

"I have dreamed so often of doing it," said Adelbert
Hugo. "You don't know how often I have looked at trains and
"He stopped.

"What were you going to say?" asked Mike.

"Well, I may as well confess," said Adelbert Hugo with
the embarrassed smile of a thirteen-year-old boy. "Once I bought a
train set the day before Christmas, and I spent Christmas Eve setting it
up in my room, pretending it was for my own son."

"That's Jack's dream," Mike laughed.
"He wants a big train with all the gadgets that go with it. I could
have managed a small one, but that wouldn't do. So I bought him
this space helmet and space suit. I'll try to persuade him that we
live in a modern world where we rarely take trains, but I know it
won't be the same. The most modern child will still look under the
tree on Christmas for an oldfashioned train."

Mildred, finished in the kitchen, came in and admired their work.
Mr. Higgins glanced at his watch.

"Oh, it is very late. I have to go," he said hastily.

"Now?" asked Mike, astonished. "What's the
hurry?"

"Why don't you stay over?" asked Mildred. "We
have a very comfortable guest room. And if you haven't any plans
stay here tomorrow and spend the day with us."

"No, no, I couldn't do that," said Mr. Higgins.
"That day belongs to the family."

"Well," said Mildred with a warm smile, "since you
haven't one of your own, we'll adopt you as one of our family.
You might as well accept us as foster relatives."

Mr. Higgins seemed to have acquired a sudden cold. He stepped to
one side, drew out a large handkerchief and blew his nose several times.

Then he turned back and said, "Thank you. That was the most
precious Christmas present I could ever have hoped to receive."

"Then it's a date," said Mildred. "You will
stay?"

"It's a date--for tomorrow," said Mr. Higgins.
"But now I have to hurry back to town."

Michael tried to protest, but Mr. Higgins' mind had been made
up. So Michael drove him to the station after he promised to be there
the following day at two o'clock for dinner.

"One thing you have to leave to women," he laughed.
"They always have the right intuition at the right moment."

And then he told Mildred the whole story of Adelbert Hugo Higgins.

The subject of their discussion had reached Manhattan in the
meantime. He hailed a cab and, for one hour, traveled frantically around
New York trying to find a store that was still open or any shop where he
could obtain wrapping paper. His quest was in vain. It was nearly
midnight when he entered his hotel and walked over to the desk.

"I'm in great distress," he told the clerk. "I
need a lot of wrapping paper, Christmas paper and ribbon. The shops were
all closed. Would you know who could help me out? Money is no
object."

The clerk was unable to offer any advice. "I'm sorry,
sir; I have used up my own already. I've got five kids; takes a lot
of wrapping paper."

"I know," said Mr. Higgins desperately.

"Let me think," said the clerk.

"Perhaps the manager could help us."

"But he must be asleep by now."

"No, I think Yes, I saw him go out to midnight Mass with the
wife. They'll be back in a short while. I'll call you in your
suite as soon as they get in."

"Oh," said Mr. Higgins, "it would be such a
favor. Thank you so much."

Half an hour later his phone rang.

"Mr. Hull said he has an idea, Mr. Higgins. Would you care to
come down?"

"You've got a predicament there!" said Mr. Hull, the
manager, laughing. "You were a little late doing your Christmas
shopping. Don't you know you should start preparing in July?"

"I know," said Mr. Higgins, "but this is-- sort
of an emergency."

"Well," said Mr. Hull, "could you manage with
gold-and-silver paper? And green ribbon to go with it?"

"That would be wonderful! The trouble is that I need quite a
large quan - Mr. Hull laughed. "1 don't think you'll
need as much as we have. We ordered our supply of New Year's Eve
decorating paper for the dining room early. There are rolls and rolls of
gold-and-silver paper. You are welcome to take as much as you require.
I'll be able to reorder in time for New Year's Eve."

Mr. Higgins expressed his gratitude in a handshake weighted with
substantial folding money. He strode over to the supply room with Mr.
Hull and five minutes after emerged bearing huge rolls of
gold-and-silver paper, tissue paper and gay green ribbon. He carried it
up in the elevator as though it were a priceless treasure. In the living
room of his suite, he drew the dropleaf table across the room to his
easy chair near the window and opened it to its fullest length. Then he
deposited his prize of paper and ribbon beside the easy chair. This
done, he carefully hung his coat and hat away, as was his custom, rubbed
his hands cheerfully and stood in the center of the living room for a
while, deep in thought. Having reached a decision, he crossed to the
phone and asked for the night clerk.

"I wonder if you could do a favor for me," he said.
"I have to deliver a few rather large parcels to a friend's
home out on Long Island. I want them to be there by eight o'clock
in the morning."

"Eight o'clock, Mr. Higgins?" asked the clerk.
"It will hardly be possible to arrange that. I don't know if
there's any messenger service tomorrow."

"I don't think there is," said Mr. Higgins.
"That's why I wanted to suggest that your bellboy might take
them over to Long Island in a cab. Of course there'il be a handsome
tip for the favor. But the parcels must be there by eight o'clock
at the latest. That's the hour children usually steal down to the
living room looking for presents under the tree, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Higgins," said the clerk, laughing. "But
some of them get an earlier start--during the night."

"Well," Mr. Higgins chuckled, "we won't count
on that eventuality. But I consider eight o'clock a normal time for
children to sneak downstairs. I definitely want the packages under the
tree by then."

"It will be arranged, Mr. Higgins," said the clerk.
"I'll ask Frank to take a cab over at seven
o'clock."

"Fine," said Mr. Higgins, satisfied. "He can come up
shortly before seven for the packages and money. I shall be up. Thank
you again for arranging it."

"Don't mention it, Mr. Higgins," said the clerk.
"It's a pleasure. It must be a mighty important family
you're going to all this trouble for."

"Yes," said Mr. Higgins seriously, "they are my best
friends. Good night--and thank you again. And Merry Christmas!"

He took a chair from his bedroom, went to his closet and, balancing
himself on the chair, began to lift down huge, meticulously wrapped
packages. There were a lot of packages and he was forced to make several
trips. With great care, he transported them to the living room and
deposited them on the floor near his chair. He removed the cord, opened
the packages, found a couple of towels and, very painstakingly, began to
clean each item of the contents.

There were many small pieces--a stop signal, a locomotive, a length
of track, a tree, a little station--and so it went on until the table
was covered with the pieces and sections of a tremendous train set,
replete with tracks and all the gadgets that make a boy's heart
beat faster when he sees them in the show windows before Christmas.

Mr. Higgins anxiously inspected each piece, and presently smiled in
satisfaction; it was all complete and in the best order. Then, in a
small memorandum book, he began to make a list of the Harris family.

"There is Mike and Mildred. And Jack, Evelyn and Lily. And, of
course, Flax."

Completing the list, he placed it on the table and began the
laborious task of wrapping all the gadgets of the enormous train set in
gold-and-silver paper. He consolidated the small packages into large
ones and, finally, had two huge packages containing the one gift for
Jack.

He took up his list and thought for a long time. Then he loosened
the beautiful gold watch from his wrist, wrapped it and tied a green
ribbon around it. This done, he checked off the name "Mike."

Mr. Higgins stood up slowly, a little tired now, crossed to the
secretary and, from a special niche, brought out an old-fashioned
jewelry case. He placed it on the table and unlocked it with a tiny key.
A strange, musty odor emerged. Mr. Higgins smiled. It certainly was
old-fashioned. It had been his mother's jewelry box. He drew out a
bundle of letters bound in a faded ribbon and lifted out a little
bouquet of dried yellow flowers--his mother's wedding bouquet. It
emitted a faint scent of lavender which came from a little sachet on the
bottom of the case. Mr. Higgins removed three small boxes, looked at
them for a moment and then, as solicitously as before, wrapped them in
the gold-andsilver paper. He made a check mark after the next three
names, rose again and took several envelopes and stationery from the
secretary. He put a twenty-dollar bill in one envelope, wrapped it with
as much care as he had given the others, and finished it off with green
ribbon.

His work was finished. The table looked festive, as one would wish
a table to look on Christmas Eve. Mr. Higgins took a pen from his pocket
and smilingly started a letter. "To My Friends." He wrote for
a long time. Finally, in the somewhat pedantic manner he was accustomed
to using in the bank, he signed his name under the letter: "Yours,
A.H. Higgins."

With a deep sigh of satisfaction, he slid the letter into an
envelope, wrote Mike Harris' name and address on it to make sure
the packages would reach their destination, and then stood the letter in
full view in front of the packages. Once again he checked the
presents against the names on his list. Yes, everything was right.

Mr. Higgins slowly replaced the pen in his pocket, sat back in his
easy chair and, for a long while, looked at the table, imagining the
faces of the children as they opened the packages. Perhaps he should
take them out, personally, at two o'clock, and experience the joy
of watching them? No[ That would be egotistical. They must find them
under the tree in the morning. And it would be a nice surprise for
Mildred and Mike as well.

Mr. Higgins glanced at his wrist, then recollected that he had
packed his watch in one of the parcels. He smiled happily and leaned
back, gazing through half-closed eyes at the colorful array on the
table.

At seven o'clock in the morning, Frank, the bellboy, knocked
on the door of Mr. Higgins' suite. Receiving no response, he
returned to the desk and asked the clerk to awaken Mr. Higgins. He did
not answer his phone. The clerk went up with the boy and, getting no
reply to his knock, opened the door with a pass key. Mr. Higgins was
still seated in his easy chair, smiling. The hurriedly summoned manager
took one look at him and called the police and a resident physician.

"He wanted these packages delivered on Long Island by
eight o'clock," said the clerk. "He asked me to make sure
they'd be there on time. He was going to leave the money for a cab
and tip. I guess he didn't have a chance to do it."

Mr. Hull picked up the letter addressed to Mike Harris.

"Get a cab and see that the packages are delivered," he
said. "I'll pay for it."

The doctor arrived, ascertained that there had been no foul play or
suicide. "The heart just stopped," he said. "Have you
ever seen such a happy face?"

The police came, were satisfied that Mr. Higgins had simply died in
his sleep. They left.

The manager felt helpless. "We should notify his
relatives," he said to the clerk. "Do you know if he has any
family in town?"

"I wouldn't know," said the clerk. "I've
never seen anyone visit him. Wait a minute. He said the people he was
sending these packages to were his best friends. It's a Mike
Harris on Long Island. Perhaps they'd know."

"Good idea," Mr. Hull said, and called Mike Harris.

"I was told that you were a friend of Mr. Higgins," he
said.

"Yes," said Mike, still half asleep.

"Would you know where we could reach any of his
relatives?"

Mike was suddenly wide awake. "What happened?"

Mr. Hull explained. He added that a bellboy was on his way out with
some Christmas presents.

"I'm driving in at once," said Mike.

Mildred wanted to go with him, but he thought it might be better if
she stayed with the children.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd wait for me before
opening the packages," he said quietly. "We had decided to
wait for Higgins, but has years of searching left. You have given me so
much. How could I think or bargain whether or not you are the ones to
whom I should pass on these little memories of mine?

"Mike, I received this watch from my mother on my graduation.
I always wanted to buy a new one, but it is such a good watch, faithful,
always giving the right time. There was no real excuse to buy another. I
hope every time you look at it will be a happy hour for you.

"Mildred, the brooch is also from my mother. I know you will
cherish it as I do. Among the trinkets my mother left me was this little
gold locket. It will look so pretty on Lily. I know my mother would have
wished her to have it. The gold ring with the stone is for Evelyn. It
will be too large for her, but she will grow into it and, one day, I
hope she will wear it with joy and, perhaps, say 'This is from
Uncle Ad Higgins.'

"I dislike giving money as a Christmas present. But,
unfortunately, Flax, there was nothing in my closet or in my
mother's jewelry box you would have enjoyed. So, the contents of
your envelope are for the best steak available in town and a nice, soft
collar that will feel good; and, sometimes, you might sniff it and just
wag your tail a little while thinking of me.

"I want to say one thing more. I have received so much that I
should feel ashamed if you were to thank me. When I see you today at two
o'clock, you would make me very happy if you would not say
anything. Just let me feel as though I had been with you to open these
packages, as I will be in spirit, thinking of you while you open them.
Until we meet again, my dear friends, yours, A.H. Higgins."

Mr. Higgins would have enjoyed all the love and attention he
received, not only on Christmas Day but also on the day of his
funeral--and on many, many days to follow. They often spoke of him, and
when someone asked, "Who is A.H. Higgins?" they said,
"Our best friend."

There was only one incident which Mike never mentioned, even to
Mildred. He was driving home from the funeral when, in spite of the fact
that there was no traffic ahead, he stopped his car abruptly. A few
moments later, ignoring the horns of drivers behind him, he moved slowly
off. A short distance away, as he rounded a curve, he was forced to stop
again. His side of the highway was blocked by a wreck involving several
cars. It must have just occurred, for the ambulance had not yet arrived.
He walked forward to see if he could be of assistance, but the highway
patrol had the situation in hand and was trying to clear the lane.

Turning back, Mike saw the driver of the car behind his waiting for
him.

"I owe you an apology, Mac," the man said, laughing
nervously. "I was sore as hell when you stopped back there and I
had to slam on my brakes to keep from running into you. Why, we might
have piled right into this! You couldn't have seen the wreck
before the curve. What made you stop all of a sudden?"

"I don't know," said Mike. "My motor just
conked out."

He couldn't very well have told him that he had stopped
abruptly because, just in front of his car, he had suddenly seen A.H.
Higgins' smiling face, had seen him waving, calling for attention.

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